Date: Thu, 12 Sep 1996 17:17:32 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Theresa - chapter 14 Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: TEXT/PLAIN; charset=US-ASCII Chapter 14 "One Small Step" "Are you sure you have to go?" Janet asked as she and Kevin stood beside Theresa in the airport. "We have so much to catch up on." Theresa smiled. "I'm afraid so. I really should get back to Albuquerque. I have so much to do." "Come back for the holidays," Kevin told her. "I mean it. Jarold's crazy about you and so is Kate, although she won't admit it." "I know," Theresa laughed. An announcement came over the speakers. "That's my flight," Theresa commented. "I'll try to make it for Christmas. I promise." She hugged them both. "See you later," she told them with a smile and then walked to her plane. "You think she'll come?" Janet asked. Kevin smiled. "She'll come." ********************************* "You want to explain to me how you could walk this morning but you can't now?" Jeff asked as he pushed Sam into their apartment after retrieving Chris' wheelchair from the cemetery. Sam took over control of the wheelchair and rolled into the kitchen. "Well," Sam hesitated as he brought out a pitcher of orange juice. "You never know what a person will do when he has to." Jeff laughed. "Are you saying it was a miracle?" Sam shrugged. "Something like that." Jeff shook his head in disbelief. He thought for a moment. "How'd you know what Andy was planning? Geez, it sounds so wrong to call him that after what he did!" Sam paused. "Well," he started to pour himself a glass of juice, "when I couldn't find you, I had a feeling that you were in danger." "Just a feeling?" Jeff asked. "Well, yeah." Jeff sighed and laughed. "I don't think I'll ever really understand you, Chris." He took the pitcher from Sam and poured himself a glass as well. He then took a drink before continuing. "You know, I think we could probably get you to walk again. I mean, if you could do what you did on that roof, I don't see why we couldn't." "We?" Sam asked. "Well, yeah, sure. I'm in with you all the way. That's if you really want to walk." "Of course I want to walk!" Chris answered. "Do you think I like being trapped in a wheelchair?" "You tell me," Al told him. "Why else would a perfectly healthy man stay in a wheelchair?" "But I'm not perfectly healthy," Chris answered quietly. "Dr. Beeks told me." "Oh. So, you're just going to sit back and give up?" Al asked. "All right. Then I'll leave you alone." He started for the door. "Wait!" Chris called out. Al turned around. "Where are you going?" "I'm leaving, Chris," Al told him. "I give up." "What?" "You don't want help so why should I bother trying?" Chris shrugged in response, not knowing what to say. Al sighed. "Don't you get it, Chris? Unless you believe in yourself, no one else will. Your ailment - those seizures - you get the medical help you need if you really want it. But you have to be the one to do it, not me. The same thing with your walking. If you really want to walk, then walk. All it takes is one small step." Chris looked at the floor with apprehension. He started sliding himself towards the floor but then he quickly slid back onto the table. "I can't," he told Al. "Why not?" Chris sighed. "I just can't!" "Why not?" Al asked, louder this time. "Why can't you, Chris? Tell me!" "Because I couldn't walk for Monika!" he shouted out. "I couldn't go to her when she called out for me! I couldn't move my legs then and I can't now!" "You couldn't help them because your legs were pinned under a dashboard! Your legs aren't pinned now, Chris! What's stopping you? Guilt?" Al nudged verbally. Chris kept his eyes on the floor. "You're not responsible for the deaths of your wife and son, Chris!" "I know that!" "Then, what's stopping you?" "Why didn't I die?" he exclaimed. "I just don't get it!" "It wasn't meant to be," Al answered. "What?" "Think about it. If you had died, my friend would never have traded places in time with you and Jeff would be dead now. You're important, Chris. You have friends who care for you. And, whatever you might think, one person is important. You can't give up on yourself. Ever." He waited to see if he was getting through to him. "Now, come on," he beckoned. "One small step." Chris nodded and slowly slid off the table. He collapsed towards the floor. Al caught him before he hit it. Chris gently shrugged him off. "I want to do this without support," he told Al. Al smiled. "You're gonna be okay, kid." *************************************** "Slowly," Jeff told him. "Take your time." Sam played into his character and slowly raised himself. He felt a tingle in the back of his neck. The sensation spread throughout his body quickly until finally he disappeared and Chris Raj-ad-Allah took the first small step he had ever made for the past year. Jeff went to his aide when Chris started to fall. "I told you I'd be here," he told him, helping him back on his feet. ***************************** Al went home, relieved that he could finally relax and not worry about Sam, at least until he leaped into another person. He slipped his key into the lock and opened the door. He closed the door and looked up. He stopped in surprise. "Sorry I startled you," Theresa told him as she came out of the guest bedroom. "I picked the lock on the kitchen door to get in." Al smiled and laughed. "You're incorrigible! Back so soon?" Theresa shrugged. "Albuquerque's my home so I guess you could call Stallion Springs my second home. Besides, I have work to do." Al seemed concerned. She smiled. "Don't worry. My visit went very well. I'm going back for Christmas." Al smiled. "Had lunch yet?" Theresa laughed. "It's not even eleven o'clock yet." "Then get changed and I'll take you to the best Mexican restaurant. You do like Mexican, don't you?" "Love it," Theresa answered. "Well, then, hurry up." **************************** "So," Theresa asked after they had ordered their meals, when do I get to see Sam?" Al hesitated. "It may be a while." "Why?" she asked, taking a drink of water. "He's not available and I'm not sure when he will be." "So, what's he doing?" "I can't tell you, Theresa." "Does it have anything to do with all that military at that complex you brought me to?" Al hesitated. "Actually, yes. You see, I wasn't supposed to even allow you in the complex much less take you down to the tenth level." "Then why did you?" "I seemed like a good idea at the time." "And now it isn't." "I didn't say that," Al corrected. The waiter returned with the drinks they had ordered as well as some chips and salsa. Theresa took a drink of her beer and shook her head. "Are you sure you don't want a beer or something? You look like you need one and a ginger ale doesn't exactly fit." Al laughed slightly. "After what I went through in the past two days, I'd love to have one. That's why I'm having a ginger ale." "You're an alcoholic," Theresa surmised as Al drank his ginger ale. Al nodded. "Recovered depressive alcoholic. But once an alcoholic, always an alcoholic. Believe me, I've fallen off the wagon a couple of times." "What happened?" Theresa asked both concerned and curious. "Personal problems. But Sam helped me through them." "And your friend Richard?" Al smiled. "You really do have a memory for faces." Theresa shrugged. The waiter came with their orders and served them, leaving them to Al's thanks. "I'd rather not discuss other people's problems with strangers." "Strangers?" Theresa asked. "Oh, I see. Since I don't know your friend..." "Exactly," Al answered. Theresa nodded. "So, when did you first realize you were an alcoholic?" Al sighed. "Why don't we talk about your becoming an artist." Theresa smiled. "I'm getting a little too personal, aren't I? Okay. Subject changed. But I think we'd better eat before our food gets frostbite." Al smiled and they started to eat as they spoke. "Now, about me becoming an artist," Theresa started. "I'd love to do it for a living but I've already searched the market. There just isn't anything out there." "Well, then, you'll just have to sell yourself harder," Al told her. "Let them know how good you are." "And how do we do that?" "Well, first, you'll need a resume," Al replied. "And what do I put on it as past employment? Professional hooker?" "How about your schooling?" Theresa shook her head. "I've tried that. No one wants a drop-out would-be artist." Al shrugged and smiled. "You know the old saying. If at first you don't succeed..." Theresa sighed. "It's only a saying, Al. It's not reality. Let me put it this way. Would you hire someone who didn't have a high school diploma?" "If I knew what they could do, yes. I would." "Seriously?" Theresa pushed. "Seriously?" Al repeated. He hesitated. Sighing, he shook his head. "I have to admit I wouldn't. Not without a lot of convincing." Theresa nodded, having made her point. "Okay. We know I couldn't get hired without a GED. So, I'll just have to get one while looking for a job." Al laughed with pleasure. "You're really one hell of a lady." "I know," she answered with a knowing smile. ************************************************ "Okay," Al said as he sat before his computer at his home office. "How do we describe the past four years?" "Well, prostitution isn't illegal in New Mexico," Theresa pointed out. "Yeah, but it isn't exactly ethical either," Al replied. "And it is illegal in some other states. So, how do we phrase it in a way which would..." "Belittle the fact? Just in case I find something out of state?" Al looked at her. "Basically." Theresa thought for a moment. "How about 'self-employed private sexual therapist'?" Al smiled. "Imaginative." "And discreet. I don't think a lot of people will try to delve further into that." Al typed for some time on his computer terminal. When he had finished, he showed the results to Theresa. "What do you think?" Theresa looked over the resume. She nodded. "I like it." "Good." Al typed some more on the terminal. "We'll save this, take some pictures of you and your work and start mailing." "Mailing?" Al nodded. "These days it's nearly impossible to get employers to look at printouts. So, we'll mail them some disks and see what they think. Now," he said ass he shut off the computer and stood up, "what about getting you into some GED classes? The sooner the better." "Agreed," Theresa replied. "But who accepts applicants this late in the semester?" Al was looking at his watch. "Well, that's for you to find out. I have to get back to work." "At six o'clock in the evening?" Theresa pointed out. "A soldier's work is never done. And neither will yours be if you don't get a move on. You have to find some classes and come up with some really great work. Hopefully before Monday." He slipped on his white jacket. "Try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone," he told her with a smile. "I'll try," she told him, giving him a mischievous smile as he walked out the door. As Al drove out of his driveway and towards the highway, Theresa took out a telelphone book and proceeded to call schools in the city of Albuquerque. ************************************* "Back again?" Verbina asked as Al came into the Complex. "I thought you were going to get some sleep." "A slight change of plans. Besides, I have to get that duty roster done before tomorrow. So, I guess I'll b here for a few more hours," Al told her as he started towards his office. "By the way, Theresa just came back in town. I thought I'd give her a few hours alone to work on getting that job of her. Can't do everything for her, you know." He turned his head over his shoulder as h walked, giving Verbina a smile. -------------------------------------------------- What?! You want more?! Okay! Chapter 15 on the way! Kat "....And something happened to the weasel." Al in "Maybe Baby" (makes you wonder what happened to that poor weasel!)